


and there's nothing i can do

by thisisthenoid



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Lazy story, cat has trust issues (more at 7), probably, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthenoid/pseuds/thisisthenoid
Summary: it's free real estate.





	and there's nothing i can do

**Author's Note:**

> started: 22/5/2018  
> a callout fic to my cat who does this shit where he lays on the keyboard despite having two rooms full of space, making it so i cant use it (probably breaking the comp by slamming his fat arse all over the keys), and then gets mad at me for simply existing next to him.  
> hes a piece of shit, but hes my piece of shit.

he wouldn't mind, really he wouldn't. he liked him, he really honestly truly did.

 

but when the kat went out of his way to lay on the thing he was working on and then go so far as to attack him if he tried to continue working on the thing? it was draining. exhausting. sometimes it was down right annoying, and it was pretty much entirely uncalled for.

 

the funny thing was that he wasn't even _his_  pet. the fat grey striped moggy they called a companion didn't follow him around nor listen to his commands, yet the very moment he sat down to craft up new armour or meld together some rocks? oh that was time for cuddles according to foxy the kat.

 

yep, foxy. it was webber's fault, really (personally wilson would have gone for "winston", or "wally", but he guessed that was just him). no one had the heart to tell webber no, so foxy the kittykit it was. and again, the humour of it all was that foxy didn't belong to webber either. it was wickerbottoms suggestion for them to have another furry little friend, and it was nice to have foxy around. really, it was. he purred when the stars were out and he snarled and hissed in encouragement when they fought against the constants horrors. but it was amazing to the scientist how a kat could display such obvious rules of boundaries from the get-go.

 

no one touched foxy unless he clearly indicated he wanted a pet. touch foxy without his consent and you'd get a swat - and no, not the nicey-nice "haha don't touch me!!!" swat with the claws still tucked away, a very clear "fuck you" swat that ended in bleeding indents. and foxy's swats _hurt_ \- he was the kind of kat to not scrape and leave lines, but instead punch and leave holes. if anything, wilson preferred the lines. he also didn't like to be stroked for too long, but he always made it clear when he'd had enough love with a sharp glare and folded back ears. it was a far better insight than the pin-point daggers.

 

it was always a tense moment when foxy decided he wanted to lay in your lap. you had to do everything very carefully as to not run the risk of foxy lashing out (wilson had also learnt that, for whatever reason, foxy didn't like hands. if they weren't in his immediate sight, foxy would stare dead cold at you, and it was always enough to make wilson's skin crawl). it became so much of a hassle to the entire group that they figured they might as well just sit and do nothing while foxy was curled up within their very close proximity. which, in turn, caused them a loss of vital time. sometimes you had to bribe foxy away with the promise of a meaty treat to get him to move off your person. it was especially grey-hairing when a monster was close by and oh look foxy decided your lap was a great bed in that one moment at that specific time of day so good luck removing him from your space so you can run from the other danger you motherfucker.

 

they played with him, fed him right, kept him warm and cool, and for the most part he was a happy kit. but it never failed to irritate wilson that the only time he was deemed worthy of a snuggle was when he had important work to do. all the space - he could roam the entire forest if foxy so pleased - yet he chose either the piece of work he was working on or the one place that both human and animal deemed frustrating. he did it with no one else, not even when wickerbottom patted her lap for foxy to settle in. just him, when he was busy, and things needed to be made. he was an effective kat-block and a successful migraine bloomer.

 

he just couldn't wrap his head around it.

**Author's Note:**

> to quote the main lyric in red vox's "blood bagel: fuck" song, 'fuck.'


End file.
